


Cast A Spell

by colazitron



Series: 2015 December Holiday Fic Countdown [22]
Category: Little Mix (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesy and Perrie brew a batch of Black Magic. It requires a special ingredient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cast A Spell

There’s a warmth and familiarity that permeates the house, enveloping Jesy the moment she steps over the threshold. It’s quite intimidating to people not in their circle, or so she’s been told, and she supposed it must be. It’s the intimacy between all of them woven into the very air the house breathes. That others feel unsettled by it doesn’t surprise her.

“I’m in The Kitchen!” Perrie’s voice rings through the house, as clear as if she were standing right next to Jesy, audible capitals and all. She’s always been especially adept at anything to do with her voice.

Jesy waves her hand at her coat, not bothering to see if it hangs itself on the correct hanger. They mostly just grab whatever they feel like anyway, the lines between _mine_ and _yours_ having blurred into _ours_ long ago.

The Kitchen smells overwhelmingly of roses, lavender, thyme, and chilli peppers when Jesy steps in. She can practically feel her sweat bead on her skin, tying up her hair in a messy bun, limbs feeling heavy with the heady scent of Perrie’s potion.

“Are we out of Black Magic again?” she asks, wrapping her arms around Perrie.

“We’re always out at Christmas,” Perrie says, sigh in her voice as her body melts back against Jesy. “You’re just in time as well.”

Love potion though Black Magic may be, it cannot actually create love, of course. It’s like noone’s even bothered to read Harry Potter. Genuine emotional connections can’t be created by magic. There’s no trust potion, there’s no love potion, there’s not even a genuine hate potion.

But there are feelings similar to them that can be synthesised. Science puts hormones to their names, Jesy and her girls, use herbs, spices, and the power of the skies and earth. If you want love, they’ll sell you lust, if you want trust, they’ll sell you honesty, if you want hate, they’ll sell you... well. It comes down to a really bad smell. And though they create these things from plants, for the most part, where the magic comes in... it’s really better if there’s something for the magic to work with. To draw from.

So for this...

Jesy sneaks her hand down Perrie’s soft cotton shorts, into the damp heat between her legs. Sweat gathers quickly between Jesy’s front and Perrie’s back, between Jesy’s arm and Perrie’s belly. Perrie’s pussy spills her juices equally easily, making the lazy strokes of Jesy’s fingers easier.

“Concentrate on your potion, love,” Jesy teases, when Perrie lets her head loll back, resting it on Jesy’s shoulder. “Let me do all the work.”

“Don’t you mean let _me_ do all the work?” Perrie teases back, though her voice has already slipped into that deeper register, the one she chants in, and moans in, and begs in, and curses in.

“Hush now, pet,” Jesy murmurs, turning her face into Perrie’s neck, teasing that spot she loves so much with her teeth and tongue. There’s already a mark there, though Jesy doesn’t know, or care to know, which one of them left it there. She’s going to add to it anyway, the initial sting and ongoing throb of pain only adding to the throbbing between Perrie’s legs.

The cauldron bubbles, scents heavy in the air, herbs, and chilli peppers, and the cloying smell of Perrie’s arousal, mixing with Jesy’s own. There’s not a time she touches one of her girls without feeling the effects herself. Even though this is business, it will never be all business. It’s that intimacy that makes their Black Magic so good, that makes people line up outside their door, begging for a flask, a drop, just the smallest trace of it.

In all honesty, Jesy thinks they’re pathetic. She’s never used a love/lust potion in her life, and here she is, surrounded by beautiful, magnificent girls who she gets to kiss and hold and love. And who love her in return.

Perrie stirs the potion twelve times, throwing in a couple last additions, before she widens her stance a bit, gives Jesy more room to work with and pulls at her own nipple with her free hend.

Jesy nips that spot on her neck.

“That’s mine to play with right now, love,” she admonishes and then does just that, pushes her hand up underneath Perrie’s t-shirt – bless that girl for not wearing any underwear around the house – gliding over her sweat-coated skin until she can brush her fingernails over Perrie’s nipples, feel them pebble, and see them poke through the shirt.

Perrie gives a shuddery breath and a nod, letting Jesy work her up, expert fingers knowing all the points to touch, all the places to tease. She holds her close with one hand around her bare stomach and slides the other one back down into her shorts, dipping down to get her fingers wet before circling them around her clit. It makes Perrie’s thighs shake, and one of her hands grabs Jesy’s arm around her middle for support, but the other one’s still stirring the potion.

Jesy can feel the way Perrie hurtles closer towards orgasm, knows the tell tale signs of her little muscle spasm, the way her breath hitches, the way her hips rock. Jesy’s own rock back instinctively, rubbing against Perrie’s ass a little, just for the contact.

It’s when Perrie starts chanting, that Jesy knows she must be almost at the edge.

“When all is lost and love is tragic, cast a spell, it’s called Black Magic,” Perrie whispers under her breath, over and over. Her voice hitches occasionally, but the words never falter, body lax against Jesy and the pleasure, lax against the magic drawing from her and thickening the potion’s scent, the steam curling over the cauldron a deep, rich magenta.

It’s one of their best batches yet, Jesy’s sure, but then, it always is.

Perrie’s orgasm washes through her with a last “Black Magic”, turning the words almost corporeal, as they crawl down Jesy’s spine, lighting her up with the need to touch more, and be touched in return.

It’s a good thing the potion needs to settle before they can bottle it, Jesy thinks as Perrie turns in her arms for a kiss, shoving a thigh between Jesy’s legs. A very good thing indeed.

  
****

The End


End file.
